Too Soon to Die
by TheSovereigntyofReality
Summary: How would Marion cope if Indy had been shot in the heart during Raiders? Indy/Marion. I only own two minor character. Indy/Marion.
1. Indy's Death

**Madrid, Spain, 1916**

Indiana Jones looked up as Matt Hanger came back with the whiskey. The Canadian handed one glass to Indy and sat down opposite him. For a while, neither of them said anything.

'I've made a few observations about you, Indy.'

Indy looked up at him. 'Such as?'

'You seem to shy away from long-term contact,' Matt remarked. 'Care to explain?'

'I don't need anyone,' Indy said. 'Isn't your job just to train me and then just have done with it?'

'Well, yeah.' Matt shrugged. 'If you wanna go by the book, I'm just supposed to train you for the battlefield. The thing is: by-the-book is boring. And predictable. But you actually believe that you don't need anyone?'

He'd said it like it was the most stupid thing he'd ever heard. Indy cocked his head, challenging the guy before him. 'What's so stupid about that?'

'Humans.' Matt held up his index finger, wordlessly telling the American kid to let him say this. 'Our greatest dependency is contact. Familiar and constant contact. That's why we have all those holidays. Christmas, Thanksgiving, etcetera, etcetera.'

**Bantu Wind, North Atlantic Ocean, 1936**

The bullet had gone into his heart. And it was only now, lying in the Captain's cabin, aboard the Bantu Wind, with the crew trying to save his life, and his head resting on Marion Ravenwood's lap, did Matt Hanger's words make sense to him. Yes, he needed contact because he was human.

It was just a shame that it took him this long to work it out.

He gently stroked her leg. She looked down at him. He smiled and mouthed the words "I love you".

It was the first time he'd ever even came close to saying it. Her eyes filled with tears and she leaned in and kissed his temple.

'I love you, too,' she whispered.

He didn't know what came next but he closed his eyes, content in that knowledge, and his world faded away.

**London, England**

Harold Oxley had been eating at a café by the port when someone had come in. It was a young man with light brown hair and eyes. He spotted Oxley and flicked his fingers, silently calling him over. Harold stood up, stopping by the counter to pay the bill, before moving over to the young man.

'Who are you?' Harold asked as the young man started leading him to the port where a ship called _Bantu Wind _was sitting.

'Nick Balinger,' the boy said. 'I'm an old friend of Indiana Jones. Or I should say…' They stooped by a covered body and Nick pulled the sheet back to reveal the face. '…was.'

Henry Jones Junior was laying there. Harold leaned over and felt his throat, looking for a pulse. Henry's skin was cold and he had no pulse. He was dead. Harold felt terrible grief. Henry had, essentially, been a good man that made most of his mistakes due to never being taught how to deal with life.

'What happened?' Harold asked.

'Shot in the heart,' Nick answered. 'He had to tangle with Nazis and one of them must've gotten lucky.'

'What were they after?' Harold asked.

'The Ark.' Nick looked towards the _Bantu Wind_.

Some of the crew were carrying the crated Ark off the ship. Another crewman was leading one Marion Ravenwood from the ship. For a moment, Harold didn't recognise her. She was wearing Henry's jacket and his hat was on her head. She clutched, to her chest, Henry's carry-on possessions. She was hunched over and looking very small, as opposed to the cool, strong and proud person she'd been the last time Oxley had seen her.

When she came over, she seemed to collapse to her knees beside Henry's body. Harold had seen her eyes. They were tired and lifeless. What had once been light blue was now mucky grey. A glassy overlay seemed to cover her eyes.

She was broken. She'd been broken by Henry's death.


	2. Marion's Death

**Princeton, New Jersey, USA**

Marion ran her fingers over the artifacts that were in Indy's house. She knew, because she seemed to come out of her shell, Marcus and Ox thought she was getting better. A stupid idea. Indy was gone and it felt like he'd taken part of her with him. She didn't tell them that, though. Marcus had to go to Washington DC to meet with the government officials that put had Indy onto this and Ox had track down everyone Indy had become friends with and tell them that he was dead.

Not an easy task.

She slowly walked upstairs and into Indy's bedroom. If he was alive, she could imagine what they'd be doing in here about now. The thought made her whole body shake and her knees went to buckle, but she caught herself on the desk.

Marion looked at the bed and then at the bedside table. She slowly walked around the bed and to the table. There was a framed photograph of her there, from ten years ago. _He did love me._

She set the picture back down and then took off Indy's hat and jacket. Setting them aside, Marion looked down at the nightgown Katanga had given her before she'd found Indy bleeding on the bed. Indy's blood stained the silk. Quickly, Marion shed the gown and pulled on one of Indy's shirts. It hung to her knees like his shirts always had ten years ago when she was too lazy to put her own clothes on.

She slipped into Indy's bed and inhaled. It smelt of him. She closed her eyes and curled into the bedding. _I love you._

Two days and Marion didn't get up. That was when she felt the bed shift. She didn't care who it was. That was until she felt a familiar arm slide around her waist and a familiar stubbled cheek pressed to hers. She inhaled and realised his smell had strengthened. If she was going crazy, this was a great way to go.

'Indy…' she whimpered, her throat dry and her voice hoarse from disuse.

'_Oh, sweetheart.' _His voice was a soft, non-existent breath in the air meant only for her. _'What are you doing? You're gonna waste away.'_

'I don't care,' she whispered.

'_You're gonna let yourself die on account of me?' _Indy demanded softly.

There wasn't enough moisture in her body to produce tears. Her eyes stung instead.

'I can't live without you,' she murmured.

'_You did before,' _he pointed out.

She shook her head slightly.

'This is different,' she told him. 'It's like half of me is gone.'

For a moment, Indy said nothing and did nothing. Then his arm moved from around her waist and he cupped her cheek, turning her head up. She realised that while she could feel and hear him, she couldn't see him.

She closed her eyes and, a moment later, she felt his lips on hers, kissing her. She hadn't realised how weak she was until that moment. He broke the kiss after only a minute and kissed her forehead.

'_I'm not going anywhere without you this time, Marion,' _he promised her.

His hand slipped from her cheek to her chest, over her heart. She reached up and clasped his hand, happy to find it felt solid under her hand. She closed her eyes again and snuggled into the invisible body around her.

On the third day, Marion Ravenwood died.

She sat up from her body and grinned when she saw Indiana Jones, leaning on the bed next to her. Marion didn't give him a chance to say anything; she just jumped at him. He laughed as they rolled off the bed.

As soon as they hit the floor, she kissed him hungrily. He growled softly and rolled them over so she was under him. He moved away from her lips and kissed down her neck, pulling her legs on either side of his hips.

'I knew ghosts got horny, but this is ridiculous.'

They broke the kiss and looked up. Nick Balinger was standing there, smirking to himself. It was typical he could see them.

'Thanks for knocking, Nick,' Indy groaned, standing and pulling her up with him.

'Sorry, but you know I never knock,' Nick said. 'I just thought you might like to know why the hell you're still here. And not moving onto the next dimension.'

'Why then?' Indy asked.

'Because you died too soon,' Nick explained. 'You were both meant to die of old age. Toward that end, you're stuck on this plane of existence for exactly one hundred years starting…' He looked at his watch. '…now.'


End file.
